Dirty Laundry
by m r s . w r i t i n g
Summary: The Doctor and his companion take care of some laundry, and have a laugh. It involves the Doctor going through a girl's underwear, so why not? Fluff; Romance. OCxD


Note: The companion, Natalie, is a companion from my own. I guess you could say I squeezed in my own long, season. For references, I'm using the 10th Doctor in this one. Also, soundtrack for this one is Risk by Deftones. Enjoy. : )

_Dirty Laundry_

"Time traveling does a lot for you," Natalie declared as she stepped foot out of the T.A.R.D.I.S, onto the cold pavement, with a bag full of dirty laundry. "But you still have to dirty clothes." The Doctor had parked the T.A.R.D.I.S in the shadows of an alleyway in the middle of London. Natalie continued on around the corner, toward the laundry mat.

"You hold a good point," the Doctor gasped as he hastened to catch up with his companion. He walked into the streetlamps dim lighting. He squinted in confusion, looking about the street. "But why the _1970s?"_ he inquired, puzzled.

Natalie only grinned, pushing the glass door as the Doctor followed.

"Come on. In the 22nd century, there are devices that just detect your laundry's filth and wash it for you!" he egged on enthusiastically as she threw her things down on top of the line of dryers. She giggled at his energy. "But yet, you have us drag the T.A.R.D.I.S all the way to the 70s, where we could be experiencing Woodstock, but only to wash a set of clothes. Hm?" He turned away from the glass window, that which he gazed onto the primitive life (compared to that of a 22nd century's laundry mat environment). He watched Natalie as she opened the bag, and began assorting their clothes.

"Well, Doctor, this particular environment, in the 70s, relaxes me." she said simply.

The Doctor paused, gazing down at her through his glasses, waiting for her to continue on with this complicated explanation, most likely accompanied by a long story, but she didn't say anything else. She simply held her head down, tending to the clothes, sorting his and hers into separate piles. "What?" he raised his brows, "That's it? _It relaxes you?" _

"Indeed it does," she laughed.

He scoffed, his mind running with possibilities as to why she was so fond of this particular place in time, pondering rhyme and reason yet again. "Well that's odd, considering-" Considering what he thought wasn't a possibility. It had crossed his mind, but he had cast the thought away as soon as it came up, deciding that it couldn't be her reasoning, her reason for such fondness.

"Considering the fact that our first trip was to this particular area in the 70s, Doctor?" she finished so slyly, smirking, walking over to throw the clothes in the washer, avoiding his eyes.

He stopped, and second-guessed himself, surprised that, indeed his hypothesis was correct after all. "Hm, that certainly is something, isn't it?"

"It might have to do with how we hid here, from those slimy…whatevers." She began.

"Vizax."

"Yeah, those!" she recollected, turning back to the clothes and the Doctor. "It was my first trip in time, and as we hid here," she met his eyes with her own, and he found himself listening so intently.

He couldn't help but recall the scene in his mind. Her eyes were so deep. Her eyes were what attracted him to her in the first place. Someone had once told him that for a man so young, his eyes were so old, and the same fact was true about Natalie. She was such a deep woman, with such a deep soul. "You told me that you would protect me," she continued. There they stood, in the middle of the desolate laundry mat, upon the white walls and the white floors they cheated with time. To the average man's eyes, they returned ever so frequently jus to wash clothes. They stood so tall and so dark, contrasting against the light surfaces. They stared into one another's eyes. He noticed her chills.

"And I believed you."

"Do you still believe me?" he asked, so solemnly.

With a sparkle in her eyes, and a bright smile, she nodded. "Yes, of course I do. As long as I'm with you, I'm perfectly alright."

Adrenaline began to pump in the moment, and the mood became heavy, too much to bear. She turned away from his eyes, and began to sort his clothes into separate colours, throwing her own aside. He remained silent as she performed her task, standing idly aside, his hands in his pockets. The moment reduced him to temporary silence. Silence overstayed its welcome as he lazily observed her work. He chuckled to himself, noticing a humorous mishap. "That's not mine," he said, muffling a laugh.

"Hm?" she looked up to him again, this time confused. "What's not yours?"

He pointed toward the non-sorted pile of his laundry. She followed his hand as it reached for the pile, as it grasped onto a dark fabric, pulling it out. He laughed even harder at the positive discovery. "Yep, that's definitely not mine." He held up a pair of her panties, black, lace. Her eyes widened, snatching the underwear away from him, hiding them within the pile of her dirty clothing, rather energetically. "I never pegged you for a lace kinda girl," he teased, leaning against the machine so nonchalantly, folding his arms.

"So you think about me naked, do you?" she responded sharply. If there was one thing about Natalie the universe couldn't deny, it was her sharp tongue. Her tongue was as fearless as her heart, even lashing out on a fleet of Sicorax, and other rather inconvenient places for a clever, angry tongue.

"You're the one who was so excited when I regenerated into my new body," he sang casually, floating over to the washers, examining their primitive workings.

"Excuse me?" she retorted, turning around with a cocked brow.

"You heard me," he went firmly, not turning his eyes away from the contraptions. "You look, and you _like_ it."

She scoffed, feigning discontent, and turned back to the pile of laundry, now _throwing_ the clothes into different piles rather than placing them. He chuckled. He wasn't too bad at comebacks himself. He was the Doctor after all. She watched him as he continued looking at the washers, standing on his toes to get a higher look, bending down to look lower. He observed the insides of the washers, looking at one after another. "Hm, and you like white lace, too, apparently," he deducted under his voice as he passed the washer that contained her clothes.

Natalie laughed loudly. "Doctor!"


End file.
